Broken
by better-in-black-since-1234
Summary: just a little thing i decided to write in my creative writing class WARNING might make you cry cause it based after the fall


**Disclamer: Don't own Sherlock, although when i showed this to a friend (who is a ****_very_**** devoted fan) she cried, told me that i'm nearly as bad as Mofffat then forced my sister to read it who in turn made me read it to the whole class, who was more than 80% sherlock fans, (i had nearly the whole creative writng class in tears) after that we found out that our teacher is also a Sherlock fan. From their i found that i am incredibly gifted in making people cry... the story of my life... **

**AS A WARNING I DO NOT MEAN TO OFFEND ANYONE, IF SOMETHING DOES OFFENED YOU IT WAS COMPLETLY BY ACCIDENT!**

**IF YOU CRY, ITS COMPLETLY ON PURPOSE!**

**anyway i hope you enjoy!:**

**Am I broken? I feel empty, does that count as being broken?**

Every time a new nurse walked in he could help himself but look her over, see things he shouldn't see.

It was some thing he did.

The first was tall and in her late forties, she had blond hair that she kept on scratching at, an irritation from the hair die, he knew, she's probably allergic. She put a hand on his shoulder, she had the beginning of arthritis he absently thought, and she smoked when she was younger.

He couldn't help himself, being around him did it.

The second was younger, and had light brown hair, she was new to the job, she didn't have the same confidence when she walked as the first. When she handed him the glass he noticed the way her hand shook a little. She was afraid of him. He realised why when she saw the bruises, previously hidden under her long shirt, peeking out. An abusive boyfriend or husband perhaps? When she turned away he saw the hand shaped bruises around her neck. Her father, he realised, as she escaped out the door.

'what do you make of that' he always says. Said.

The third waked in, her skirt was slightly lob sided. And her white blouse had a little rip in it. The smell of her vanilla perfume was overwhelming.

He heard a faint voice, his voice 'and I presume she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees' the voice faded away to nothing.

He grinned slightly remembering the smug look in his eyes. He always did that, shows emotion through his eyes not his face. Showed.

A tear ran down his face. John didn't bother to wipe it away because slowly, more were coming.

By the time the fourth nurse came in he wanted to leave. He didn't want to be here anymore. It reminded him to much of his time after Afghanistan.

He didn't like hospitals either.

John escaped the white room and wandered back to their apartment. He fumbled with the key, his eyes temporarily blinded, having to try multiple times before he actually was able to open the door. When he was inside he stumbled up the stairs and into their living room. He collapsed in a chair, eyes closed.

When he opened them he saw his chair. Over the back was a scarf. It was his favourite dark blue scarf, john could have sworn he was wearing it when...when he...he…

John shot up out of his chair, limping slightly and raced to his bed room, slamming the door closed. He collapsed on the bed, hands over his face to hide the tears that had begun to slide down his cheeks once again.

Memories and voices flashed behind his eyes,

The time when Sherlock had appeared out of nowhere, covered in blood and holding a harpoon, 'well, that was tedious' the faint memory of the words bringing more tears to start cascading from his eyes.

Another pushed its self the front of his mind

'That was brilliant' he heard his own voice, he saw Sherlock blink almost looking shocked

'That's not what people normally say' he said looking back at the window

he couldn't help himself 'what do people normally say?'

Sherlock turned to him grinning slightly 'piss off'

Before he could stop himself he fell into another memory, one when they were running down the streets, after being handcuffed together

'this isn't going to work' he heard his own voice

'here' another one answered 'take my hand'

The memory threw him into another, one he never wanted to see again

'Goodbye, John'

The memory faded away, leaving john as an emotional wreck, curled into himself and sobbing on his bed.

He left and took everything inside of me. He left me empty. He broke me.

Outside his door Mrs Hudson stood, hand over her mouth, eyes full of tears. She heard the door slam shut from down stairs and rushed up to see if John was okay, but was greeted by the sound of his heart wrenching, broken sobs.

"Oh Sherlock, the mess you've made"

**what do you think? my sister said i made themsound a little gay... but i figured that most sherlock fans are Johnlock fans anyway, so hope you dont mind!**

**R&R plz!**


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